


we drove through ghosts to get here

by callunavulgari



Series: Holiday Writing Challenge '12 [7]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Aftermath, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, Kid Fic, M/M, Multi, Off-screen Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-07
Updated: 2012-12-07
Packaged: 2017-11-20 13:12:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/callunavulgari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Don’t you wish you could see him when you look at her?” he asks, just his eyes visible as he peers up at her. She smiles, cupping his jaw in one hand so she can tilt his head towards her. “Nico, I do see him when I look at Ros. Can’t you see? She has his smile and his laugh. When she gets into trouble she does the same nervous fidget that he used to. She's his daughter too, no matter what anyone says,” she tells him gently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we drove through ghosts to get here

**Author's Note:**

> Day 7 of the Holiday Writing Challenge on tumblr [over here](http://giraffe-tier.tumblr.com/post/35469673249/winter-drawing-writing-challenge). Prompt was 'sledding'. This is a) not the cheerful holiday fic that I've been writing for the last few days and b) as far away from the original prompt as I could possibly get. The ending's supposed to be hopeful, but apparently my psyche wants to write sad-fic today. Completely unbeta-d.

Annabeth’s husband dies before their daughter turns four on a bleak winter day continents away from her and Nico. It’s weeks before they find out—weeks before Clarisse is released from a hospital in Shanghai and manages to get back to the states, bruised and battered.  
  
She shows up on their doorstep and the moment Annabeth sees her, she knows.  
  
The grief doesn’t manifest immediately—she has Roslyn to take care of, after all. In truth, Nico had taken it harder than she had. He still smiled for Ros, of course, taking her to ballet class and parks and making dinner for the both of them, the smell of spices and the hissing of whatever was in the skillet spreading through the kitchen. He’d read her bedtime stories and sing her to sleep, but afterwards, he’d run his fingers through her dark hair, eyes terribly blank.  
  
“I wish that she’d been his,” he tells Annabeth one night, curled into her side. They’re both squeezed onto the far side of the bed, as if touching Percy’s side of the bed will make it real.  
  
Percy’s pillow is in his lap, his arms wrapped around it, and Annabeth thinks that she might break.  
  
“Roslyn is Percy’s,” she says simply, flipping a page in her book. “She’s Percy’s just as much as she’s ours.”  
  
He glares at her, then burrows his face into her shoulder. He still smells like dinner, faintly, the spice smell caught in his hair. “You know what I mean,” he says, but it comes out garbled and near unintelligible.  
  
Sighing, she settles her book onto the bed. “Nico, it doesn’t matter that biologically, she’s ours. Percy lov—” her voice trembles and she has to tighten her hold on his shoulder before she continues. “—ed her and she loved him.”  
  
“Don’t you wish you could see him when you look at her?” he asks, just his eyes visible as he peers up at her. She smiles, cupping his jaw in one hand so she can tilt his head towards her.  
  
“Nico, I do see him when I look at Ros. Can’t you see? She has his smile and his laugh. When she gets into trouble she does the same nervous fidget that he used to. She's _his_ daughter too, no matter what anyone says,” she tells him gently.  
  
Nico laughs wetly, like a sob’s lodged in his throat. “How are you taking this so well?” he asks her, wiping his nose on the sleeve of her shirt.  
  
She shrugs, because she’s really not. She’s heartbroken and wishes more than anything that it had been her with him instead of Clarisse, because then maybe he’d still—  
  
No, she’s not taking things well. The grief comes and goes in gentle waves, but she has Ros to take care of. It’s selfish of her to almost wish that Percy had been the one to come back rather than Clarisse. She’s jealous of Nico because she knows that one of these days, he’ll visit the Underworld and even if he has to search, he’ll find Percy. He’ll be able to see him, whether he’s in Elysium or The Fields of Asphodel.  
  
“It’s almost Christmas,” she says, because she can’t tell Nico any of that. Not yet. “We should take Ros sledding tomorrow.”  
  
There’s a moment of silence before Nico settles back in beside her, his grip on Percy’s pillow relaxing. “All right,” he finally breathes.  
  
Reaching over, she turns off the light, scooching down the bed so that she can twist their legs together—her head tucked under his bony chin just so she can listen to him complain that her hair’s getting in his mouth.  
  
She falls asleep to the sounds of Nico’s breath ruffling her hair and her daughter’s faint snores over the baby monitor that they hadn’t managed to get rid of yet.  
  
They’ll be fine.


End file.
